


gone, at the pull of a trigger, at the bang of the gun

by orphan_account



Series: under sea and storm, through bullets and blood [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Oneshot, last words written on your soulmate's skin trope, slightly angsty?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:27:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9997601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It happens when he turns eleven.A set of words on his skin, the last words he'll hear his soulmate say.Holy shit Jug, take my jacket, yeah? You'll freeze, you dumbass. I'll see you at Pop's when after I dump my gear, alright?They're the words of someone who won't graduate highschool, but lives in Riverdale's careful comfort, someone who plays football, and lends Jughead his jackets.They're the words of Archie Andrews, in his Senior year at Riverdale High.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i got a prompt on Tumblr for this, so :)  
> except they specifically requested non-angsty and i have therefore failed them i apologize

It happens when he turns eleven. 

There is a set of words engraved on his ribs, over the stretched skin, the bumps like the roads he wishes he could travel with someone, instead of alone. 

He can't travel, can't learn. 

It happens when he turns eleven. 

He finds his words in the bathroom mirror, skids dirty fingers across them, knowing what happens when he hears them spoken. 

 

_Holy shit Jug, take my jacket, yeah? You'll freeze, you dumbass. I'll see you at Pop's with Bets and Ronnie after I dump my gear, alright?_

 

They belong to Archie Andrews, because who else calls his girls by those names, attends the football games, and loves Pop Tate's with a strength that rivals his own. 

Archie Andrews is blessing on a world that can’t keep him past high school.

He's never told him. 

He claims an aversion to touch to avoid the benign interaction between best friends that could lead to someone reading the skin of his ribs, of his heart, of the boy he'll lose. 

He doesn't start making the connection until the summer of Freshman year, three weeks before the Fourth of July weekend. 

 _His_ Archie - soft, gentle, Archie Andrews - doesn't attend football games or know a woman named Ronnie. The Archie that pops up in a growth spurt like Jack's bean stalk, when his shoulders fill out, his stomach flattens, when his strong jaw is more prominent for lack of baby fat on his bones -- _that_ Archie could play football. 

When he hears Betty complaining to Kevin about some girl named Veronica Lodge who she's supposed to tour around Riverdale, his stomach drops down into his feet. 

Sometime in the next three years, he will lose his best friend. 

 

He fell in love with Archie between childhood pinky promises and a ruined road trip. 

He fell in love with Archie over a milkshake, and a burger at Pop's the first or second or twenty-third time it happened. 

 

When Archie kisses him, plastered against him in the pouring rain, in the sweat of a post-football quarterback, he cries, laughs, and swears. 

He nips at the other boy's lower lip, and asks him not to leave, laying his hand heavy over the curve of his hip, where he knows Archie's mark sits. 

At fifteen, he shows it to Jughead, who's never forgotten the words. 

 

_Yeah, yeah, I'll, uh, I’ll see you at Pop’s._

_I love you._

 

They're at a game in their senior year, all standing on the field after the game, making fun of Archie for a particularly bad fumble. 

"Some captain you are, Andrews!" Reggie shouts with a grin, ruffling his hair as he walks by, pushing Jughead with one arm. "Hey Corpse Bride." 

"Reggie, you wise cracker." Jughead's voice is flatter than we used to think the earth was, and Archie snorts, covering it up with a cough when Reggie glares. 

Archie peels off his football gear, throwing it to the other members of his team when they walk by, laughing when they start to shout at him. 

"Holy shit, Jug, take my jacket, yeah?" He pulls the letterman jacket onto the other boys flannel, pressing a kiss to his temple when he does. "You'll freeze, you dumbass."

Folding his hands around the sides of the jacket, he presses his mouth over the other boy's, slipping their tongues together, swallowing the sounds Jughead makes. They lean their foreheads against each other, and there's an extra wetness in Jug's eyes. 

"I'll see you at Pop's with Bets and Ronnie after I dump my gear, alright?" 

Archie gives him a bright, glowing smile, and Jughead laughs his breath out on a sob. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'll, uh, I'll see you at Pop's," he mutters, trying to smile. 

Archie's face goes white under the red flush of his skin, eyes panicked and wide. 

Jughead presses his mouth over Archie's before he can say anything, hard and insistent, and listens to the hitch of his boyfriend's, his best friend's, his goddamn fucking soulmate's breath under the kiss. 

He's going to lose him. 

He buries his face in Archie's neck, breathing the sweat and honey-and-waffles smell that permeates the air under him every time he sees him. It’s the same smell since they were kids.  
It’s the same smell he’ll die wearing.

"I love you." 

It's only the third time Jughead has said it and Archie hitches his arms around him, shaking. 

 

The first time was sitting in a booth at Pop's, six and a half minutes before what would become their first date. It kind of spilled out of him. He'd shrugged when Archie spluttered, and gave the redhead a sardonic smile. "I've shared my fries with you since we were eight, Arch, you’re just figuring this out now?" 

The second time was after Archie found out about Jughead's (lack of) living arrangements. They'd fallen into his bed, hands draped over one another, grinning, and laughing, kissing and kissing and kissing until their mouths tingled. He had whispered it into Archie's hair, smiling, bright and young. 

 

Betty, and Veronica, and Kevin, completely unaware of what's going on, drag Jughead away, laughing and giggling, shouting about Pop's and an after party, about drinks and joints. 

Jughead sits at a booth at Pop's, fingers shaking around his phone, wondering when he'll get the call. 

If it'll be a call. 

The most likely scenario is a car crash on his way to Pop Tate's, and Jughead thinks about it so much, forms his various reactions so precisely, that the next morning (after a night of sleeplessness) when he gets a call (of course) from Sheriff Keller, he says, "What time did he crash?" 

The Sheriff pauses. 

"Jughead," His voice is careful, tight, withdrawn, and Jughead freezes. 

"Whoever killed Jason Blossom... Jughead, we think there may be a connection between the Jason's murder and..." 

"And Archie's." Jughead's voice stutters and shakes its way through the name. 

His soulmate was gone, at the pulling of a trigger, at the bang of a gun.

 

They never find the murderer, though Jughead and Betty search, spurned by _his_ death.

He forces himself to complete the novel, despite hating it with everything he has, hating every word of the godforsaken thing. He documents what he loves about Archie.

He’s the only character in the book he refuses to rename, because that name used to be attached to a red headed boy with a guitar, a dream, and some football. It used to mean Jughead & Archie. 

 

Seven years later, on the anniversary (the Fourth of May, 2024), Jughead is sitting in his second lecture hall of the day. 

And a boy in a blue and yellow letterman jacket, with big brown eyes, and bright, pretty hair, walks in, laughing, his arms slung around a smaller boy in a beanie and jeans. The dark-haired boy tucks his head into the back pocket of the red head's jeans and grins, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then his jaw. 

Jughead stares, mouth open, eyes stinging.

"Mr. Jones," the Professor calls, amusement edging her voice.

The boys are gone.

"You still with us?"

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> two fics in twelve hours i am on a roll  
> like  
> wow  
> im vaguely impressed lets b real
> 
> ANYWAYS  
> hope you lovelies liked it, leave a comment if you want, i always try and answer  
> and if you wanna talk/rant/whatever hmu on tumblr at blue-by-auster
> 
> have a great day!  
> xx  
> mads


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